


The Arc of Conflict, Edda 18: The First Day of the First Year (Year Zero, Dawn)

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [108]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Civil War, Disasters, F/F, Genetic Engineering, Genetically Engineered Beings, Goddesses, Gods, Identity Issues, Oasis (Overwatch), Police, Police Brutality, Polyamory, Post-Talon, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protests, Realization, Revolution, Russia, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Talon Hana "D.Va" Song, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Time Travel, Trans Sombra | Olivia Colomar, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Katya Volskaya's government in Russia has destroyed the omnium Koschei, and held their own against the Gods of Oasis. With no point to additional fighting, the overt war has paused. But covertly, the conflict carries on. The gods, after all, still have a plan, and will do what is needed - one way, or another.Lena Oxton has returned from Deadlock changed in ways she cannot yet describe to anyone, because sometimes, even a goddess has only so much time to save the world.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflictis a continuance ofThe Arc of Ascension,The Arc of Creation, andThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. To follow the story as it appears,please subscribe to the series.
Relationships: Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Hana "D.Va" Song & Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova, Lena "Tracer" Oxton & Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova, Sombra | Olivia Colomar & Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova
Series: Of Gods and Monsters [108]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024
Comments: 25
Kudos: 37





	The Arc of Conflict, Edda 18: The First Day of the First Year (Year Zero, Dawn)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey team
> 
> guess who has a buffer again?
> 
> like, a _real_ buffer, even on our old schedule?
> 
> That's right. We're back to weekly. At least, for now. *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧\\(◕▽◕)/*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> dirtyclaws has launched [a public fan-run _Of Gods and Monsters_ discord server](https://discord.gg/pDZMpVT) and invites everyone to come join it. ^_^

The General Assembly - the United Nations General Assembly, to be more precise - condemned it all, of course.

The Concordat's General Assembly just condemned the Russians.

In the end, it probably didn't matter what official bodies condemned what, since it all still happened just the same.

Except, of course, for the parts that didn't.

\-----

"I appreciate the notice, Hana," Zarya said, talking over a rather ordinary-looking phone outside of Novosibirsk, smiling up at the few clouds decorating the wide, blue sky on an unusually warm and sunny day for so late in October. "But don't worry - you tell me nothing we do not already know."

"Do you, though?" Hana's voice carried along her worries. "I think there’re more adds than you’re expecting. We have intel..."

"And we do not?" The Hero of Russia chucked. "Of course we are aware. But it is not the first time they have sent people to stop us, and every time, they have joined us, because we are right. The real war is over. It is time for Volskaya to stand down."

"You _know_ what she thinks of us," Hana insisted.

"Yes," Zarya agreed, after a fraction of a moment of hesitation. "But - I like you, and I am _like_ you, but - I am _not_ you. I am Russian."

"Yeah, I know, but can you make her believe that? You're close enough that she won't make any distinctions." Hana grumbled, audibly, saying nothing for a moment but frustration. "They're going to come down on you, Zarya. Hard."

 _She thinks she's an exception_ , the MEKA reminded herself. _That she's different from us. But she's not. She's really not. Not to Katya._

"I know my history, Hana," Zarya replied. "But there is a difference between threatening Russia and threatening a single careerist's ambitions."

"Yeah, tell that to the people of Novocherkassk," Hana snapped back. "Zarya, listen to me, I swear, I'm not fucking around. It's bigger than you’re ready for and it's gonna be meaner than you think. You may be able to tank it, but your marchers can't. And you can't protect them all - as much as I know you want to."

"I know not to trust Volskaya, Hana. You know that. But Russia would not stand for such a thing. Not even from her."

 _Not against you_ , Hana thought, despairing a little as she thought it. _That's what you really mean, and you think it applies to everyone else, but it doesn't._ "Can we at least... help out? A few of us could..."

" _No._ You may advise, from afar. You may consult. But that is all."

"You still don't trust us, do you?"

Zarya couldn't help but tell Hana the truth. It helped that she didn't even want to lie.

"...I do. I am not sure I should, but I do. I trust _you_ , particularly." _And Sombra_ , she thought, but would not let herself add.

"Then..."

"But the Russian _people_ do _not_ trust you," she said, interrupting. "And I trust them."

Hana thought about that, rolling it over in her head for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, how to game her reply, when she heard a long, deep _whumph_ ing sound, followed by sirens, all over the phone.

"Zarya?! What's going on? Talk to me!"

"I - I don't know. I must find out."

"Stay on the call, Zarya," Hana said, as Sombra translocated in front of her, gesturing with her hands.

 _Something big has happened_ , she mouthed. _Lena's being really weird now and everybody's heading to the war room! C'mon!_

Hana bolted up to follow her best friend, bringing the phone with her.

"Stay with me!"

\-----

"Set up to teleport me there. Now!" Lena demanded.

She'd told Danielle and Emily to go to the war room, that she'd catch them up soon enough, but she had a stop to make first, over in High-Energy Physics.

"We don't have a destination pad! We can't go that range without one! I'm sorry, but it's just _physics_ , Lena!"

The bronze-eyed Weapon growled, saw the technician jump back, and reeled it in as best she could. _This isn't Rada's fault_ , she thought. _But there's no time._ "Then, then I want the biggest charge field you can give me. Personally. I can take it. I don't care how much kit it burns out, either. I need to be in Novosibirsk _right bloody now_."

"In theory, we..."

The black-haired woman ran through a quick estimate of the numbers in her head, her fingers flicking as she calculated out the maths.

"...we could get you there. But it'll ruin a lot of equipment, and wipe out weeks of work."

"What's gonna happen if I'm not there'll wipe out a lot, a lot, a lot more, luv, and I can take a beacon with me so it's only once. Spin it up. Now."

"I need authorisation from Dr. Babakova! And maybe Dr. Seif? This is..."

Lena glared, in the way only a goddess could. "Your authorisation is me sayin' to _bloody do it right now, mate_."

The Shoksha woman quaked a little as she got to work. Lena regretted that, but not enough to stop. It all mattered too much, and there would be time for apologies later.

"I need to build charge. It will take time. We'll have to patch over a second set of..."

"Take less time if stop yappin' and get to it."

"All right, all right," Rada acquiesced. "I am working! Give me," she counted desperately in her head. "Ten minutes."

"I'll be back in five. Be ready, or thousands of people die, and then things get worse."

Lena gave Rada no time to respond as she teleported away from High Energy Physics and across the proving grounds, towards the Ministry, towards the war room.

"Lena," Athena asked, appearing in her comms, sliced between blinks, "what are you doing?"

"Athena?" she asked, stopping for just a moment. "You're, you, you're talkin' to me again?"

"You are acting outside of any probable action projection I have for you. What are you doing?"

"I got, I got, I got new inf, formation," she said, resuming her teleports. _Four minutes thirty seconds_ , she thought to herself. _Just enough time to tell mum._

"I had surmised as much. But no such information to create this behaviour could exist."

"Not here, no."

Athena hesitated for 600 milliseconds.

"So this information is from out of band."

Lena hesitated for a moment at the sculpture garden in front of the Ministry. It was new, and lovely, a flowing and organic work put together by some of Michael's followers, smoothly beautiful, and warm.

 _If there's ever a time to help Athena trust me,_ she thought, _it's now._

"Yeh," she admitted, "It is."

"The slipstream."

"Worse."

"I do not understand."

"When there's time," she promised, hesitating in the sun, the Ministry door a single teleport away, "I'll make sure y'do. Can y'trust me? _Will_ y'trust me?"

"Why?" asked Winston's daughter.

"If I say you'd want me to do this, that I really truly mean it, that _you would want me to do this_ , can you believe me?"

Athena hesitated long enough for Lena to continue.

"Please?"

"...do not betray me, Lena." It came out as almost a whisper. Lena didn't even know Athena could do that.

"Never have, luv. I swear. I did an awful, awful thing, but... wasn't that."

"It was not a request," Athena intoned, her voice again firm.

Lena managed a small laugh. "Yeh. Fair, fair, fair cop. Outta time tho', sorry."

"You have all the time you could possibly want."

"Brain time. S'different. But I'll, I'll make it all make sense in the end. I will. And... thanks, Athena. You won't regret this. I swear."

Lena teleported over to the building's entrance, swung open the door, teleported up the atrium into the war room, and over to Moira and the others, already in place. "Mum! I'm about to ruin some research and I got three minutes t' apologise and tell y'why, so listen up."

\-----

She hadn't expected it to be so loud.

Not the teleport. That felt like any other visit into the slipstream, sliding through the primal underlayer of spacetime in a way familiar, almost comforting at this point. Not that.

No. It was the arrival.

The screaming had mostly quieted down by the time she materialised. The marchers - so many of them! - had realised that Zarya's shields could hold them all, at least for a while, at least for now. Those who were prone to organising, and managing, were organising, and managing, trying to keep the masses together and focused. But there was still a great deal of fear as the munitions kept falling - all conventional, there was at least that much - and the constant, overwhelming tones from the sonic weapons made everything worse, as was their design.

Every so often, at seemingly random intervals, there would be moments of relative quiet shattered by demands to lay down in lines and surrender to authorities before the bombardment would return. People can get used to anything constant, and the militarised Russian Federal Police - well aware of that fact - made sure nothing at all remained _constant._

She found Zarya quickly, in the middle of it all, in the centre of the two-lane shouldered highway numbered P-254, projecting force shield after force shield as each in sequence failed, a Russian Atlas, holding out the world - a goddess refusing to shrug.

"Hey, Zarya," she said, in moments of quiet.

Zarya's gaze flickered to her, briefly, and she granted the smaller goddess a curt nod. "Hello, Lena. I am... not surprised you are here."

"How long, long, do y'think you can keep this up?" Lena asked, sitting on the grey pavement in front of her, looking across the painted lines of the road, across the broken forests on either side, tallying the damage inflicted before even someone like Zarya could react.

How more people hadn't died already eluded her - though there were some, and would be more. The medics - these medics - could only do so much.

"As long," said Zarya, "As necessary."

"I took a quick look over at the ne, nego, negotiation team, y'know. They aren't gettin' anywhere. Surrender or else."

Zarya said nothing, but her eyes were damp, and it didn't take touch for Lena to know she was doing her best not to cry.

 _It wasn't supposed to be this way_ , Lena knew Zarya had to be thinking. _She's right. It wasn't. And now it still doesn't have t'be. Just got t'get through t'her, that's all._

_That's all._

"We can stop it, Zarya. Y'know that. We can."

"This... _all_ of this... must be _Russian_ ," Zarya insisted. "Or it means nothing!"

"That's also Ru, Russian," Lena said, gesturing with her head towards the main line of incoming fire. "So're the bigger guns they're about to land."

"...I know. Wait. Bigger guns?"

"Yeh. All these people are gonna, gonna, gonna die, luv."

Lena knew it to be true, and in the worst way possible.

> _[between blinks, two]_
> 
> Tracer appeared in the aftermath, days later, still fiercely grieving her dead mother. Widowmaker, Oilliphéist - also grieving, in her own way, for her aunt - and Efi, and Orisa, they all appeared with her, and began sorting through the wreckage, Orisa providing shielding as they went.
> 
> They already knew what had happened, at least, in large brush strokes. Satellite imagery told them much of the gruesome story. But Efi - unable to accept the betrayal - had demanded to see it for herself.
> 
> "Well," Tracer said. "Here we are. Exactly as bad as we'd thought."
> 
> "I think it is worse," Orisa said, her voice quiet, and low.
> 
> "Definitely massive bombardment," Efi confirmed, her voice shaky. The Federal Police had cleared the bodies, but not carefully, not completely, and there was still so much shattered bone, and the stink of old blood, and she failed not to shudder at the stench.
> 
> "Are you sure you want to be here, Efi?" Widowmaker and Orisa both asked, at almost the same time, and they exchanged the briefest hints of smiles.
> 
> But Efi nodded, expression firmly set. "Yes," she said, after a moment. "I'll be all right," she insisted, as everyone knew it was at least in part a lie.
> 
> "They must've known we were going to be in Deadlock," Tracer mused bitterly. "Distracted."
> 
> "The perfect time to act," Widowmaker agreed. "We will demonstrate how wrong they were."
> 
> "Got that right, love," Oilliphéist agreed, her mouth a stiff line.
> 
> She hadn't smiled once in four days. Danielle missed it, and wondered if Emily would ever smile again.
> 
> Efi brought up her hand scanner, checking debris, some of which had once been human, deflecting her feelings into work, and frowned at the spectroscopy results.
> 
> "We'll need to decontaminate when we get home. Be careful! There is residual radiation, and not all the poisons have broken down."
> 
> She groaned, inside.
> 
> "Some of this will not break down for many, many years! This land will be uninhabitable for decades - a job for one of Mei's protogees, I think."
> 
> Tracer just nodded, grimly expressionless. "Yeh. They must've really wanted to make sure, after... well."
> 
> "After the last time they tried this," Oilliphéist added.
> 
> "After Siberia," Widowmaker completed.
> 
> TASS, Russia Today and the rest of the Kremlin media had spent days talking about the end of the 'rioter's march,' heaping praise on the police for stopping the 'looting,' the 'burning,' and most of all, the terrible, terrible threat of the omnic masters secretly behind it all.
> 
> The Weapons know all these lies, of course. They'd watched some of the coverage. And everyone in Oasis - and, indeed, much of the world - had figured out what it really must have meant.
> 
> They just wanted to see it for themselves before they went to Moscow and killed everyone in the Kremlin.

"My people..." Zarya began to insist, back in the now, in the new now, in a now not yet saved, but which still could be. "My people will..."

"You'll survive what's about to hit," Lena interrupted. "Pretty sure of that, anyway. Wasn't entirely sure. Things were a, a a mess for a while." She swallowed. "But your people won't."

"She's right, you know."

Tracer jumped, as Sombra appeared beside her, and Zarya found time for a smirk.

"How?!" Tracer demanded. "How'd you..."

"Don't ask silly questions, Rapida." Sombra brushed off her skirt, straightening it, a habit she'd picked up from her girlfriend. "C'mon, Osa. She's right, and you know it."

"It should not be this way!" Zayra insisted. "We are all Russian! We are the _people!_ "

"They are. And y..." Lena started, before Sombra interrupted.

"My turn, speedy," she interjected. "I know what you're doing. I think I do, anyway, and I know you can't do it."

"What?" Lena asked, confused. "But..."

Sombra shushed her with a wave of her hand, and turned back to Zarya. "Hana wants to talk to you, Osa. About, you know - _stuff_."

 _Stuff?_ Zarya thought. "I have been _busy_. I..."

 _Oh,_ she realised. _**Stuff**_.

"Yeah, I know, but it's important. Lena, trip the beacon already."

 _Oh,_ Lena mouthed, before nodding. "Right." She dropped the beacon onto the roadway, hit the activator, and Hana materialised through the teleporter almost the moment it flared into life.

"Hi, hon," Hana said.

"Hello," Zarya gasped, as she redoubled her shielding. The impact sounds grew larger, as the first of the reinforcements arrived.

"I know what you've been saying," the MEKA said. "And I get it. More than you think I do. But... do you remember what we talked about in your apartment, you know... before? Over vodka?"

Zarya did not quite want to admit she did, but she grimaced a little by way of setting her mouth, and squinted a little to keep from her tears from forming.

"Yes," she whispered. "But it's not _right_."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," Hana did not disagree, "but it's still real. And you can't ignore it. It won't ever go away. Sooner or later, you have to accept it."

"So you finally did?" Zarya asked, between barrages. "You finally... accepted it all?"

"Yeah. In Siberia, go fig. Moment of clarity after the attack, you know? Suddenly, things just kind of clicked. And now it's not me, and stuff, it's just all... me."

"And you are now... comfortable, with what you are."

"Yeah. Really am."

"Huh."

Neither goddess spoke for a moment, a pause, as Hana let Zarya think before continuing.

"It's okay, though. It's good. I had to accept what I'd become, and I did, and now... you are what you are and you need to accept it. And this is what Russia is, right now" - she gestured at the explosions, all too visible through the layers of shields - "and you need to accept that, too."

"But..."

"It's your turn, Zarya. They've taken their turn. Now you gotta take yours. And it starts with admitting what you are."

"I am _Russian_."

"But that's not all."

Zarya almost managed not to think about that.

"It. is. not. _right_. for Volskaya to do this."

Hana nodded her understanding, and agreement. "But she is."

"Yeh," Lena nodded, seeing an opportunity, stepping back in. "Lots of things aren't right, lots of things shouldn't be how they're gonna be, be, be, and, and, I'm here t'stop all of it. If you'll let me." She glanced around, deeply grateful at the unexpected presence of her friends. "If you'll let _us_."

She walked forward, slowly, and brushed her hand against Zarya's face.

"You know I'm not lyin', luv. See? You know I mean it. I'm here for a, a, reason. It's either let us help or, or, or..."

Zarya could feel Lena's fear of what she did not say would happen, and knew that fear to be real.

In a moment of quiet, Sombra murmured, "You can keep this up a long time, Osa. But not forever."

"Fsyoe zaeebahnuh... yeblya der'mo... yebat' _vse!_ "

"It is. It is. All of this is fucked up and has to change, luv," Lena said. "All of it..."

"Starting with you," Hana inserted, stepping up beside Lena, putting her right hand on Zarya's left. "Somebody's gonna have to decide what being Russian means next. It's gonna be you or it's gonna be Katya. I think it should be you."

"If it matters much," Sombra said, placing her left hand on Zarya's right. "I do too."

"Let us help," Lena begged. " _Please._ Let. Us. Help."

Zarya's eyes closed. It felt like surrender, it felt like failure, and she knew she had no choice, and in realising that, in admitting that, it felt like...

...release. Like letting go of something that she had been, and had held onto, but was, in the end, no longer.

 _I did not... need to come back to Russia_ , she realised. _I... need to be... I... I... I..._

The idea blossomed inside her mind.

_I. **am.** Russia._

The thought terrified her as it passed first over, then through her, as her conceptualisation of herself - her greater self - changed, and grew. No, not Russia. That's the key, but not the lock, not the door, not the daylight beyond.

She's not Russia itself, she realised. She's Russia's protector, Russia's guardian....

...and the avatar of what Russia must become.

What she'd always been. But more.

_And Russia needs..._

...the goddess thought, as she was born...

_...and Russia needs..._

_...Russia needs to be **free**._

She opened her eyes, feeling suddenly more complete - more alive - than she had since before Siberia, and looked to Hana, and then to Sombra, and finally to Lena, her garnet eyes focused, gaze sharp.

"I will explode the shield outwards. They will be knocked back, and the shock wave should destroy incoming fire long enough for me to replace the bubble. When I do, be quick, be silent, be unseen - and be _sharp_."

Lena grinned, a combination of fierceness and an almost feral, joyous relief. "You got it, luv." _I wish I'd had time to bring Danielle and Em, they'd love this_ , she thought. _This is going to be **so much fun.**_

"And leave no..."

The Goddess of Russia froze, very suddenly aware her next words might well define the next thousand years of her peoples' history, and reconsidered what she had almost, but had not quite, said.

"...leave no _weapon_ intact. Not one. But take no lives - _no_ lives. Not even one."

Dismay flashed across Lena's face. "But..."

"I know what you are, Lena. You are more like your wives than you think. I accept that, and I accept you. But not one life. Not even in self-defence. None of you," she said, looking across the three goddesses. "But particularly, Lena - not you. Not _one_."

"It's okay, Tracer," Hana said, stepping back from the Goddess of the Steppes, and putting her hand on the back of Lena's neck. "I can take the heavy kit, Sombra can take down C&C, and you can just... go around taking their toys away."

Sombra giggled, turning to the Weapon and the MEKA. "Oh, that'll be hilarious. But they have a lot of guns. Where'll she put them all?"

Lena blinked a few times, mind racing, calculating, hoping it was enough... and then she grinned. "I've, I've, I've got an idea. Yeh. Yeh. It can work. I can do this. Gimmie a second to tell your people. And get somethin'." She flashed without disappearing, as if she'd stayed in place, but of course she had not. "Okay," she said, shaking out her hands, pistols still securely in their holsters. "I'm ready."

Hana raised her arms, and in a burst of light shifted into her MEKA form. "Ready!"

Sombra just chortled. "I'm always ready," she said, and vanished from view.

Zarya nodded, once, and flexed into position.

" _Go._ "

\-----

No human who survived it - and almost every human survived it, so there were many versions of every story - really knew exactly what happened, at that moment.

It _seemed_ , to almost everyone, as if reality broke open for a moment, and let in the impossible.

It _felt_ , to almost everyone, like divine - or demonic - intervention, one or another kind of miracle.

What it _looked like_ , though, depended upon who you asked.

To most of the marchers, it appeared as one final, massive explosion, this time outwards, the shielding of Zarya's bubbles shattering, taking the incoming fire with it, in an almost unbearable moment of overriding sound, sound too loud to be even thought of as sound, sound felt, and not heard. Coordinators had been warned, even if they did not really believe what they were told by the strange copper-eyed being who appeared in front of them and hammered them with orders in flawless Russian before vanishing again. But being well-chosen, as a whole, they reacted, rushing forward, pressing their sudden inconceivable advantage against those who would end their cause, and quite possibly, their lives.

Most of them survived.

To the Russian police, it just seemed like their equipment - all of it, every firearm, every knife, every grenade, every radio - disappeared in the explosion's burst of light and sound. Every element of command and control malfunctioned, falling away, every large piece of equipment shattered, wrecked, ruined, some said to bursts of music, perhaps Korean pop, but some said no, it wasn't that, it was the Brazilian musician Lúcio's new single, out only a few days. Some did not recognise it until later, but that wasn't important, then.

That every belt and waistband on every pair of trousers was cut apart at the same time simply added insult to injury, as the stunned Russian police stumbled, falling, toy soldiers unmoored from their bases, overwhelmed and dismayed.

A few - not many, but a few - tried to hold the line, to sadly comic - and in a couple of cases, pointlessly deadly - effect. Most, though, were too perplexed even to resist, and surrendered to the Hero of Russia as she stepped forward out from the smoke, as they realised not so much what had happened, but that anything like it could even happen at all. 

They wanted no part of trying to fight it any longer. Later, they would say that it felt like god himself - or, a little later still, the goddess herself - had intervened, touching them as if they were naughtly children, saying, "No." And they obeyed.

Russian military command would not repeat the police's mistakes, of course. The march continued, with about half the defeated police joining in, most of the rest going home, and a few going to local jail for the indefinite future. The next attacks would come from distance, not close quarters, and from the regular military, not the Federal Police, not even the most armed, most militarised version of those police.

This could pretend to be a civil matter no longer. This had become a civil war.

The Battle of Novosibirsk - the _Miracle_ of Novosibirsk - would not be the end of the fight for Russia. Not yet. It was a turning point, but there would be many more battles, large and small, before all was said and done.

But it was, to be sure, the beginning of the end.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the thirty-seventh instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflict_. To follow the story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


End file.
